Poison Heart (32 page)

‘Do you hate me?’ she asked eventually, and I saw her glance inside the car as if she didn’t want Genevieve to hear.

‘I don’t hate you,’ I answered straight away. Even in my confused state I had to tell her the truth that was clear in my mind. ‘I can’t excuse what you did, but I think I can … understand why.’

This seemed to be a relief to her and I saw tears glisten in her eyes. She carried on with renewed energy and then appeared satisfied. The snow was still light and soft and it had only taken about fifteen minutes. She opened up the boot and put the spade back inside, stamping the snow from her boots. The only other thing she said was, ‘One day … I hope you’ll be able to forgive me.’

She started the ignition again and moved slowly. She managed to get the car out of the hole, but once on the road it skidded dangerously.

‘We have to find a lay-by or somewhere to pull over,’ she said, and I could hear real fear in her voice.

Her hands were glued to the wheel trying to gain control, but the car had a life of its own. I knew it was hopeless, and she knew it too. There were only two options that I could think of – we could stop and dial the emergency services, but we had no idea of our location, or we could stay here and keep watch in case a snowplough or tractor managed to get through. I was just about to announce this when she cried. ‘I can see some kind of sign … there on the left.’

With difficulty she turned the car on to a dirt track and then pulled over into a clearing by some trees. The sign advertised a fishing lake, with opening times and prices per hour. Rebecca switched off the engine and I watched all the tension leave her body.

‘I’ll get the blankets and snacks in a moment. We’ll be safe here.’ She sighed. ‘At least until morning.’

I thought it must be a dream. There was a light somewhere in my consciousness, a hand shaking me and a voice whispering, ‘Katy? Will you come with me? I’m too scared on my own.’

‘Genevieve? What’s wrong?’ I hastily moved the torch away because it was shining in my eyes.

‘I need to wee,’ she laughed softly and pointed to the front of the car. I could see a sleeping figure, lying across the two seats, a blanket pulled up to her chin.

‘What time is it?’ I groaned.

‘About three.’

I opened the car door and staggered out, disorientated and stiff. My feet sank into knee-high virgin snow although the sky was now clear of any more flurries. The flask of coffee had taken effect and I twitched uncomfortably.

‘There’s something I have to give you,’ Genevieve whispered. She put one hand into her pocket and took
something out. I didn’t realize what it was until she moved closer and I felt her hands caress my neck.

‘The pendant, Katy. You never wore it.’

I fingered the smooth stone and smiled nervously, knowing I couldn’t take it off in front of her. I tucked it inside my coat. ‘Choose a bush, Genevieve, and I’ll find another.’

I had this pathetic hang-up that meant I couldn’t wee unless there was no one else close by. I couldn’t bear to think about having to pull down my jeans and crouch in the snow, but there wasn’t any choice. Genevieve made a joke about wishing we were boys. We split up and it took me ages to find a spot and pluck up the courage to expose any flesh to the sub-zero temperatures. Genevieve had taken the torch and I couldn’t see her or any scrap of light. I knew which direction the car was, but I didn’t want to go back without her. I jumped as I heard rustling in the bushes and wondered if she was playing a joke on me.

‘Genevieve? Genevieve?’ I called into the dark.

I heard sounds but thought that my mind was playing tricks on me because they seemed so far away. I listened harder and there was definitely a voice floating through the trees.

‘Come and see this. Katy, it’s amazing. Katy, come and join me.’

Clumsily I moved forward, stopping every now and then to listen. Genevieve’s voice was like I’d never known it – full of awe and wonder. She sounded like a child. I
remembered that day at the craft fair, where she tricked me into following her, but I stumbled on, taking a minute to wonder why, wherever she went, I was close behind.

‘Genevieve? I can’t see properly and I’m freezing.’

‘It’s not much further,’ she shouted. ‘I can hear you so clearly.’

‘You’d better be close,’ I shouted back with annoyance.

The snow disguised everything on the ground. I fell into holes in the grass and tripped over stones and tree roots. It was really spooky being here alone and I tried to concentrate on the trees for comfort, unsure whether my favourites were the slim graceful firs, poised like dancers waiting for the music to begin, or the sturdy ancient oaks, their trunks gnarled and blistered. I imagined they’d been here so long and seen so much there was nothing that would surprise them; in fact, after another few minutes I could see a wise old face in one of the stumps of a lopped branch. A beam through the trees suddenly signalled that Genevieve was there, and I wondered why she hadn’t done this before. Impatiently I strode on until the ground levelled out and the undergrowth ended.

‘What the …? Genevieve, don’t move.’

My hand flew up to my mouth in horror. I’d reached the frozen lake and Genevieve was gliding on it, her head thrown back, laughing.

‘I’ve never been ice skating before, Katy. It’s great, even without boots. Come on, you can be my partner.’

I didn’t want to startle her so I tried to sound completely
unimpressed. ‘I’m cold and tired and I don’t want to skate. Let’s go back to the car.’

‘No,’ she protested, sliding forward and extending one leg behind her. I almost expected to see her spin. ‘You have to do this. It’s three in the morning and we’re lost in the middle of nowhere and the lake is so beautiful …’

I gave a loud fake laugh. ‘It might not be safe … Remember all the warnings about skating on thin ice … Come back to the shore.’

Her arms now twirled like helicopter blades and she looked so full of rapture that I was momentarily envious. ‘The sky is completely black,’ she sang, ‘like polished jet set with twinkling diamonds. This all might be gone by tomorrow.’

‘It’ll still be here,’ I assured her, ‘and we’ll skate in the daylight when we can see properly.’

‘No,’ she answered petulantly. ‘I’m fed up of always waiting for tomorrow. From this moment on I’m going to do whatever I want when I want. And the lake will never be this magical again.’

For one crazy minute I agreed with her. It looked so inviting in the moonlight, and she seemed completely free. I’d been dull and sensible for so long and she was beckoning to me.

‘Katy, think of all the things we never did together. She stole everything from us. You know you should be with me. You
have
to be with me.’

I warily put one foot on to the ice and knew straight
away it wasn’t that thick. I could sense movement, an ominous creak, and it could have been my imagination but I could feel the water churning beneath. It was incredible that Genevieve had made it so far towards the centre.

‘Don’t go any further,’ I called. ‘I’m coming closer, but edge your way backwards and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.’

‘I’ve just had a great idea,’ she cried, ignoring my warning. ‘You can change your name … like I did.’

I moved a few centimetres forward, reluctant to leave the safety of the shallows. ‘Why would I change my name?’

‘Because you’re not who you thought you were. Katy is dead, and Hope hasn’t existed for over sixteen years.’

Another few centimetres and I was physically shaking with fear. ‘But I still feel like Katy.’

‘Forget Katy. You can be anyone you want to be.’

It was time for the question I’d been longing to ask her since the day she walked into my life. ‘Who is Genevieve Paradis?’

‘She doesn’t exist!’ she almost screamed with elation. ‘I got her out of a book. When I read that name I knew I wanted to be her. I
felt
like her. You can be anyone you want to be … Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

I was about three metres from the bank now and this felt surreal: the moon shining on the frozen ice, the shadowy trees reaching their twisted black branches towards us, the ghostly figure of Genevieve gliding on ice and her voice resounding in the silence. The only way I had the courage
to move was to tell myself this
wasn’t
real. I was still Katy Rivers, the former Girl Guide, who knew every safety precaution in the book and would never, ever walk out on to a frozen lake.

A sudden ugly noise in the eerie stillness was like a whip cracking.

‘Genevieve,’ I warned, ‘the ice is breaking up. Lie down and try to spread your weight.’

I wasn’t even sure if this was the right advice, but I dredged it from the dark recesses of my memory.

‘Meet you halfway,’ Genevieve shouted. ‘I’ve wanted to be with you so much. All my life I searched for you. We’re different from other people, Katy, and you owe me this.’

I searched for signs of panic on her face but there weren’t any. ‘I missed you as well,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘I just didn’t know it.’

‘Don’t be afraid. It isn’t the end for us … I know that for sure.’

And now there was another, familiar voice calling, but I didn’t dare turn around.

‘Move back, Katy. Slowly slide your feet back. You haven’t far to go.’

I didn’t even hesitate but answered with certainty: ‘No, I can’t leave her.’

They were the last words I spoke before Genevieve slipped under the ice with one final brutal crack, like a fault opening up during an earthquake. I hesitated for only seconds, ignoring the frantic cries in the
background. I was still on my feet. It was a simple choice – retreat to solid ground while I still could, or try to save Genevieve.

Nothing could have prepared me for the cold. It was raw, clean, sharp and cut through me in all its cruelty. It didn’t just take away my breath, it also closed down each nerve and every function. My clothes were heavy and sodden, lead weights dragging me under. I thought of the tale of the old man of the sea who tricks travellers into taking him across the river. They agree to carry him, but he wraps his legs around them like a vice and grows heavier and heavier until they drown. I probably only struggled for a minute. I was never a strong swimmer and neither was Genevieve. Giving up felt like a relief.

The water was surprisingly clear of weeds and debris and it was easy to find Genevieve, with her hair streaming around her head like a mermaid’s. She was waiting for me, as she’d always been, and I put my arms around her lifeless neck. I’d thought it would be hard to die but it felt surprisingly easy; the light beckoned, far away in the distance but drawing me closer. I was moving gratefully towards it, guided by some unseen hand, when the calm of the water was disturbed. A hand grabbed me. I was pulled upwards, ripped from the lake in a cruel rebirth, and dragged across the ice. The distance felt immense and I kept expecting to hear that sickening crack again. Everything I wanted to escape from was still there on that bank – cold, uncertainty, hurt, loss and pain. I retched and spluttered,
convinced that my lungs had burst. I was rolled on to my side and coughed up water.

Rebecca hesitated and I sensed what she intended to do next. My hand gripped her arm tightly. ‘You can’t go back in there.’ There was determination in her face, and as she began to pull away from me it took all my strength to restrain her. ‘She’s already gone … it’s useless.’

‘I have to try, Katy. I need to do this.’

I shook my head, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. ‘Don’t risk your own life. Stay with me … Mum.’

As the final word left my lips she seemed to crumple in my arms and we clutched each other for support. I don’t think I’ve ever held on to anyone so tightly in my whole life.

After another few minutes had passed there wasn’t even a ripple on the water; it was as if nothing had ever disturbed its tranquillity. I stared into its shining depths. There was something floating on the surface close to the bank, a piece of green glass, in the darkness almost the same colour as the lake. It drifted idly for a few moments and then sank without a trace.

‘“A rose … by any other name would smell as sweet”.’

Luke dangled his arms along the back of the wooden bench and waited for my reaction.

‘
Romeo and Juliet
?’

He gave me a thumbs-up sign.

‘I’m not hung up on my name,’ I answered, self-consciously fiddling with my earring. ‘I still feel like Katy Rivers. Anyway … do I really look like a Hope?’

He shook his head. ‘A girl called Hope would act demure and play the violin or the harp.’

‘I’m tone deaf.’

Luke squinted in the December sunshine. ‘You were really brave today. I’m proud of you.’

I didn’t answer because tears were still close to the surface and I’d finished with crying. Luke handed me my sunglasses and I realized how awful my eyes must look. I changed position, the starched black suit uncomfortable, but I wasn’t in a hurry to leave St Jude’s. Lots of people
found graveyards morbid, but I felt quite comfortable among the dead. There were more visitors here than I’d expected, but it was almost Christmas and special wreaths made of holly and miniature fir trees adorned many graves.

‘It’s right they should be buried together,’ I said, watching two sparrows fighting over a piece of bread.

Luke was making embarrassed humming noises beside me. I knew there was something on his mind and if I waited long enough he would tell me.

‘I know it’s not my place, Kat, but maybe you should talk to someone.’

‘About what?’

‘Everything … You think it’s all over, but stuff like that might … er … resurface later on and cause you problems.’

I turned towards him, aghast. ‘You think I need a shrink?’

‘Counsellor perhaps,’ he answered delicately.

‘It wasn’t what you think,’ I protested. ‘I was living a life that didn’t belong to me …’

Luke blinked madly and loosened his collar. ‘You still wish you’d never met Genevieve?’